Incognito
by Obviously Insane
Summary: Penny, I have to go somewhere.
1. The First Time

**Incognito**

A/N: It has been brought to my attention that this plot is similar to that of Catch Me If You Can, and so I'd like to give the movie a little shout-out. I have yet to actually SEE it, and I think I'm going to wait until I'm finished with the story to actually watch it, so that I don't get any ideas/change them because they are too similar, etc. If you see any major similarities, it isn't intentional. Deathrace tells me that the movie is awesome, so I guess you should check it out. ;)

* * *

**Baltimore, Maryland: 1975**

Penny reached up and pulled the hairbands from her pigtails, letting her hair flow freely. A gust of wind rushed past and her and she took a deep breath, sighing at the feeling of cool air against her hot skin. Baltimore in the summertime was always brutally, blisteringly searing. She fought the urge to go inside and get a glass of lemonade, planting her feet in the soil of the garden. Penny had always loved flowers, ever since she was a little girl. She'd pluck daisies and tulips and marigolds from her mother's garden, raising them to her button nose and taking in their calming fragrance. She loved the colors; pinks and reds and yellows and blues and greens. They took her mind off the world around her; the corruption, the crime, her mother, her father. Especially her father.

"Penny," Tracy called from the porch, knitting her brows. She watched her best friend standing in her garden, feet buried in the dirt. "You wanna come in for dinner? Link's making spaghetti. I can't guarantee it's good, though. He's really awful..."

"Hey!" a loud cry emerged from the kitchen window. "I happen to be an amazing cook, Mrs. Larkin!"

Tracy rolled her eyes. "So, are you coming in?"

Penny shook her head. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Tracy shrugged her shoulders and sighed, walking back into the house. Penny could hear Tracy and Link's daughter yelling about how Link had promised to play Monopoly with her but didn't, and she smiled to herself.

She trailed her hand along the grass, the blades tickling her skin. Seaweed told her he'd meet her here, but she was used to him breaking his promises.

* * *

**Baltimore, Maryland: 1965**

She was sitting on the edge of the bed when it happened. First, she heard them; the gaudy tone of police sirens. Penny had just figured that it was nothing; she and Seaweed did live in a bad part of town. But someday, after they were married and Seaweed got a job, they'd move out West. Someplace nice. Maybe California, even. She'd seen a picture of the Golden Gate Bridge in a magazine and was entranced by it ever since. The picture was pinned to the wall right above their bed, and sometimes she'd fall asleep staring at it. Seaweed would always promise her that someday they'd live right across it, so she could fall asleep looking at the real thing. She had no idea how they'd do it; they were dirt poor, barely making enough money to pay the rent as it was.

"Penny," Seaweed's voice was shaky as he entered the room, and Penny was immediately alarmed. Her boyfriend was usually calm, cool, collected. Tonight, however, he had been uneasy. While they were eating dinner, he'd barely touched his food. He kept glancing at their television, which had been playing the local news all day. He'd been acting suspicious all day, and Penny was worried. "I have to go somewhere."

"What?" she asked, furrowing her eyebrows. She stood up, the mattress squeaking beneath her. "Where?"

"I don't know yet." He grabbed a grocery bag from the floor, and walked over to his dresser. Seaweed started throwing random belongings inside, and Penny was growing more and more anxious with every passing second. He looked like he was racing against time.

"Seaweed," she demanded, grasping his hand. "What are you...what are you doing? Why are you acting like this?"

"You love me, right?" Seaweed looked frantic, his chocolate eyes filled with desperation. He gripped her hands, looking into her eyes. He furrowed his eyes, pressing his lips together. "No matter what?"

"Of course I do," Penny's voice cracked, and tears started forming in her eyes. She was scared now, and the sirens grew louder. "Why are you asking me that?"

He shook his head, putting the bag on top of the dresser. He started to say something, but decided against it. Fumbling with the lock on the window, he finally got it open, making a move to jump out. Penny raced over to stand behind him, and she grabbed onto his shoulder. One of his legs was already dangling outside before turned back again to look at her.

"Listen, I love you," he told her, fear playing across his face. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck and down his shirt. "And I've done a lot of things in the past that I ain't proud of."

"What are you...?"

"I'll tell you," Seaweed assured her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. "Just not now. There's not enough time."

"You're not making any sense!" Penny cried out. "I don't understand why you're..."

"I have to leave," he said quietly, swinging his other leg out the window and grabbing his bag. When he hit the ground, he looked back up at her. "Some people are looking for me, but you don't tell them anything, you understand?!"

"Seaweed, I..."

"You don't tell them nothing!" Seaweed repeated. "You don't tell them I was here!"

"I won't!" Penny yelled back to him. She was crying now, so confused. She didn't even know who they were, though she had an idea. Those sirens were for him. What he had done, she had no idea. But what she did know was that she absolutely terrified. She'd never seen Seaweed look so afraid in his life. Everything was moving so fast, and she barely had time to breathe.

"Listen to me, Penny," he said, shaking his head. His whole body was tense. "I'll tell you everything, okay? Meet me at the Inner Harbor at five o'clock in the morning tomorrow, you understand?"

Penny nodded her head. She'd never been there before, but she'd find out where it was. "I...I will."

"Say it to me!" Seaweed glanced over his shoulder. They only had seconds before the cops got there. "Inner Harbor, five in the morning!"

"Inner Harbor, five in the morning, tomorrow!" she repeated, slipping over the words.

"Don't tell nobody!" Seaweed slipped out of the alleyway just as the red and blue lights splashed across the building. Penny collapsed back onto the bed, hugging her knees to her chest.

She'd never felt so alone in her entire life.


	2. The Time Machine

**Baltimore, Maryland: 1975**

"Aunt Penny," Jane Larkin's pudgy little fingers clung onto Penny's dress, tomato sauce staining the yellow fabric. Penny didn't mind that much; it was one of her mother's old dresses, anyway. "When are you coming inside? My mommy told me that you would play Monopoly with me. Daddy won't. He says it's 'cuz he's tired and stuff from work, but I think it's 'cuz he's afraid to lose again. I always beat him. Especially when I use the thimble. It's my good luck charm, honest. I don't cheat, or nothing. I don't even steal money from the bank when Daddy's not looking, I swear."

Penny smiled at the young girl, running a hand across one of Jane's french braids. She looked so much like her father. "I'll be there soon, Janey. I just have to finish something first."

"What do ya gotta do?" Jane asked, showing that her four front teeth were missing. She raised her eyebrows. "Is it like...a secret mission assignment?"

Penny grinned. Jane had always been obsessed with "Get Smart", and she accused everyone (especially Link, who was constantly taking business trips) of being a secret agent. "Yeah, kind of."

"Really? Are you fighting those meanie peoples at KAOS?!" Jane clapped her hands with excitement, jumping up and down. "Do you know Agent 99? She's so pretty. Don't you think she's pretty? I think she's pretty."

"No," Penny shook her head. "I'm afraid my life's not as thrilling as that."

Jane's joyful expression turned to one of disappointment, and she shrugged her shoulders. "Do you think my daddy knows Agent 99?"

"Sure he does," Penny rolled her eyes, knowing that Link was probably going to come after her when he found out that she'd told Jane that. He'd been trying to convince her for months that he wasn't Maxwell Smart in disguise, much to Penny and Tracy's amusement. "They're best friends."

"No way!" Jane shouted, once again full of life. "I gotta go!" With that, the seven year old raced off into the house. Penny crossed her arms over her chest, sighing against the wind. She walked across the street, staring at the pavement, and she waited by the bus stop. Penny prayed she had enough money to take her where she wanted to go.

* * *

**Chicago, Illinois: 1955**

"Seaweed," Maybelle walked over to her son, rolling her eyes. He was planted in front of the television set, as usual. She was just about ready to give up on the men in the Stubbs family; her husband, Louis Sr., was always out in the garage, working on some mysterious "project". Maybelle hoped it wasn't like the time he tried to build a time machine. They'd had to move out of the damn neighborhood because people thought they were crazy. Lord knows the fact that he was in a car accident didn't help the fact; he was always trying to find new ways to add 'dexterity' to his wheelchair, whatever that meant.

"It's such a nice day outside," Maybelle lied. It was raining heavily, and she'd had to cancel the dance lessons she usually held at the community center. "Why don't you go out and play at the Jackson?"

Seaweed turned his head and looked at her incredulously. "Momma, I'll catch pneumonia."

"How do you even know what pneumonia is, boy?" Maybelle glared at him. Seaweed shrugged his shoulders. "Louis, I ain't gonna ask you again."

"Momma," Seaweed said quietly. He knew he was in trouble whenever his mother called him by his real name. "It's _cold_."

The curvacious woman sighed. "Fine. But I don't want you sitting in front of that television set all day. Why don't you go and help your father in the garage? I'm sure he'd appreciate it. Lord knows he ain't gonna let me help 'im. I don't even know what he's doin' in there."

Seaweed rolled his eyes, standing and shutting the television off. "Neither do I. He keeps trying to get me to come in there, but he's crazy, Ma. Remember the _Time Buster 3000_?"

Maybelle shuddered. "Who could forget that piece of junk? You might as well humor the man. We both know he ain't got much to look forward to after the accident."

Seaweed nodded his head, silently agreeing. "I guess I could help him out. I'm okay with a soldering gun."

* * *

**Baltimore, Maryland: 1965**

Penny wrapped her jacket around her slender body, pulling it tighter across her chest. She felt nervous, uneasy, and not just because she was in a less than savory part of town. Seaweed had demanded that she meet him there; he was going to tell her what he had done. Penny feared the worst; had he gotten into a fight...and had the other guy not made it out? Had he hit someone with Link's old Corvette? It would explain the dent. God, where were all of these absurd ideas coming from? He had probably just forgotten to pay for a speeding ticket. That was all. But then, why would he flee like that? They didn't have much money, but she was sure they could afford to pay off a couple of expired tickets.

When the police had stormed into her house the night before, she had been shaking and trembling too much to understand a word they said. She told them that Seaweed wasn't there; that they'd broken up months ago, and that she hadn't seen him since. Penny could tell that they didn't truly believe her, but they'd let her go. She still didn't know why.

Leaning against one of the run-down buildings, she tried to calm the heart that was beating violently against her chest. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. What did Seaweed do? Was this all some elaborate joke? Was he playing a _joke_ on her?! If he was, he'd better watch out. Penny would sic Maybelle on him so fast he wouldn't know what hit him...

"Penny," she heard his voice whisper. It came from the window behind her, and she didn't dare look behind her. "Penny, are you alone?"

"Y-yes," Penny's voice shook, despite her attempts to sound calm. "You told me to...didn't you?"

"Yeah," Seaweed breathed into her ear. "No one followed you?"

"N-n-not that I know of," Penny managed, turning her head slightly to see him. "Seaweed, what's going on? Why are you acting like this?!"

Seaweed sighed, and he opened the crusty window. Penny turned her body to face him, moving closer. "Penny, I..."

"You have to tell me, Seaweed," Penny said, wincing. "You owe me that much. You have to tell me what you did. Why are the cops after you, Seaweed?"

He put his head in his hands, visibly paling (which Penny thought was the impossible). It was freezing, the wind steadily beating down on the couple. Penny pushed her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat, shivering.

"I'm in a lot of deep...stuff. With the, uh..."

"With the what?" Penny asked, afraid of the answer. "The Baltimore City Police Department? I heard that Link's step-dad joined the police force, or something. Maybe he could help you..."

"Baby," Seaweed said softly, afraid to look into her eyes. "It's not the BCPD."

"The...DMV?" Penny guessed, knowing that wasn't it. "Did you forget to renew your license, or...?"

"Baby...it's the FBI," Seaweed said quickly. He started shaking his head, looking sick. "It's the God damn fucking FBI."

"Seaweed!" Penny shrieked, but not because of his language. "Stop joking around."

"I'm not joking. I wish...I wish I was. But I'm not."

"What did you do?" Penny whispered hoarsely, still not believing it. "Did you...were you streaking...?"

"No, I was not streaking!" Seaweed cut her off, shaking his head. "You think that God damn FBI would be lookin' for me if I ran around in my birthday suit showing what Momma gave me? Hell no!"

Penny pulled on her sleeve. "Well, what did you _do_?"

"Now, baby," Seaweed started, looking exhausted. Under his bloodshot eyes lay heavy bags, and he looked like he'd developing some wrinkles along his forehead. "Before I even start, I just wanted to say I love you more than anything in the world, and I'm grateful...I'm grateful that you're even standing here right now, listening to this story...and..."

"Seaweed."

He sighed, grimacing. "That's...that's the thing. Part of it. My name...my name ain't Seaweed."

Penny stood there for a moment in silence. "Well, I mean, I probably guessed that it was just some playground nickname, or something, but I don't see what that has to do with..."

"You don't get it," Seaweed looked down at the ground. "My name's Louis. I'm named after my dad."

"Well," Penny started. "That's not such a bad name. My uncle's name is Louis. Although, he's in an asylum in Canada, so I can't really..."

"And Jerome."

"That's your middle name?"

"Francis, too. And Ethan."

"But..."

"A couple 'uh times my name was Craig."

"Um..."

"And one time, I used the name Sexton, but that was just 'cuz I was trying to pick up this chick, and I didn't want to give her my real name, and it _sounded_ funny at the time..."

"Seaweed!" Penny interrupted him, frowning. "What are you talking about?"

He took a deep breath. "Listen, baby. I...you know, in those detective shows? Where they're always tryin' to find that guy that's stealing money from banks, or something like that?"

"No," Penny said. "I never was allowed to watch TV at my mother's house."

"Oh," Seaweed knit his eyebrows. "Well...you know what robbers do, right?"

"I said I don't watch TV, _not_ that I don't have a brain."

"Okay," Seaweed said. He cringed, looking like he was bracing himself against something. His knuckles gripped the window sill with an alarming intensity. "I..uh...well, you know. I kinda...do that?"

"Do what?" Penny asked, digging her fingernails into her palms. She knew what was coming next; she just didn't know if she could deal with it.

"I..." Seaweed choked over his words. "Well. I take...money from places. And I...put it in..._other_ places."

"Are you telling me that I'm engaged to some...petty thief?!" Penny shrieked. Seaweed shrugged his shoulders.

"I'm, uh," Seaweed grimaced again. "Not exactly a petty thief, technically."

"_Seaweed_."

"They're giant businesses, okay?" Seaweed said, starting to sweat. "I mean, they barely even notice it's gone! It's like, I don't know, a thousand dollars to us is like a nickel to them, baby."

Penny rubbed her throbbing temples, trying to breathe. She always was the calm one, but now she felt like she was falling apart. "So let me get this straight; you're stealing money from major corporations? How long have you been doing this?"

"Not long," Seaweed's voice had gotten quieter. "I mean, I'm only twenty years old, Penny."

"How much?"

"Huh?"

Penny's jaw clenched. "How much money, Seaweed?"

"Uh...you know," Seaweed stuttered, trying to stall for time. "Ten..."

"Hundred? Thousand?" Penny guessed. When Seaweed stayed silent, her face grew red. "Ten _hundred_ thousand?"

"Uh," Seaweed muttered. "More like...ten million."

* * *

Dun, dun, dun. ;P

The next chapter'll probably focus on Seaweed's relationship with his father in more detail. It will explain A LOT about what's happened so far, in case any of you are a little confused.


	3. The Accident

A/N: From here on out, it's probably in your best interest to make sure you're paying attention to the dates. You won't be totally lost or anything if you don't, but it will be easier to grasp the story.

**Arlington Heights, Illinois: 1950**

Louis walked along the sidewalk and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shivering against the cold. His beady eyes glanced behind him; he was always looking around. He couldn't help it, and it was understandable. Maybelle'd sent him out to get some batteries, but the store was closed. He'd have to come home empty handed, even if that meant having to face Maybelle's wrath. Louis shuddered, and not because of the wind.

He ran his hand through his hair, sighing in disappointment. Disappointment in himself. He could barely provide for his family; they lived off of tomato soup and stale bread, moving in with generous relatives when money was even tighter than usual. It was going okay now, though. They lived in this really nice two bedroom apartment, and it even had this conjoined patio outside. That's where he was building his time machine, the _Time Buster 3000_. That was his little pride and joy, and he just knew he could make it work. He was, he had to admit, very technologically advanced. Once he finished the time machine, he'd sell it to major companies across the United States, that's what he'd do. Then he'd have enough money for them. Maybelle had always wanted to move out west, after all. She'd never admit it, but he noticed the hopeful look in her eyes whenever they showed the Hollywood sign on TV.

His darlin' wanted to be a star. And he'd make that happen. All he had to do was finish that time machine.

* * *

**Chicago, Illinois: 1955**

Seaweed opened the garage door slowly, biting the inside of his mouth. It was nervous habit of his, and by God, was he nervous. He had no idea what his father was doing out here; he just hoped it wasn't something stupid like the time machine. Maybe he'd build Seaweed a tree house instead. Louis was hunched over beside a large grey machine, and Seaweed frowned at it. He had absolutely no idea what it was, but it didn't look like a tree house.

"Seaweed?" Louis spun the wheels around on his wheelchair, turning to face his son. He looked proud of himself. "What brings you into my humble abode?"

The twelve year old wasn't about to tell his father that his mother had forced him to visit him. "I was wondering what you're doing in here, Daddy."

Louis shrugged, looking down at the ground. "How old are you know? Eleven?"

"Twelve," Seaweed said, pressing his lips together. "My birthday was last week."

"Ah, yes," Louis grinned wildly at him. "I must've forgot. Did I get you anything?"

Seaweed solemnly shook his head, and Louis grimaced. "No kidding."

"S'okay," Seaweed mumbled, but Louis motioned for him to come over. The boy stumbled forwards, tripping over stacks of paper. Louis reached up to place a hand on his shoulder.

"Son," he started. "Any present I could've given you would've paled in comparison to what I'm about to show you."

Seaweed nodded, although he was confused. Louis motioned towards the machine, pushing against the wall to move towards it. His son followed closely behind.

"Now, Seaweed," Louis said quietly, and Seaweed leaned in closer. "What I'm about to show you don't leave this room, you got that?"

Seaweed nodded, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah."

"Don't tell nobody," Louis added. "Not even Inez."

"I won't tell nobody."

"Good," Louis whispered, turning his attention to the machine. "This is something your old man built awhile ago."

"What is it?"

Louis grinned. "It's a little something that'll help us along."

"What do you mean?" Seaweed raised his eyebrows. "Is this another time machine, Dad?"

Louis laughed at his namesake, shaking his head. "No, Louie, no. It ain't no time machine."

* * *

**Arlington Heights, Illinois: 1950**

Phillip Hayes furrowed his eyebrows at the black man sitting before him. They weren't supposed to discriminate against Negroes anymore, but he sure as hell wasn't giving this one a loan. He'd come in with a raggedy old coat on, a sour look on his face. First thing he said when he sat down was: "You gonna give me some money."

Simple as that. Just said: "You gonna give me some money." At first, Phil thought that the Negro was robbing the damn place. It wouldn't be the first time. But he'd sat down across from him, looking like Death itself. He was gaunt, bones sticking out every which direction. Phil knew that he would never be able to pay them back, not in a million years.

"I..." Louis said slowly, desperation playing across his face. "I could give you a...a down payment. Some sort of...proof that I'll be able to pay you later."

"Mistah," Phil started in his heavy accent, raising his eyebrows. Louis smiled weakly at him.

"Louis Stubbs."

"Mistah Louis Stubbs," Phil said, sighing and leaning back in his chair. He tucked his hands behind his head. "Listen, West Arlington Bank is one of the most respected banks in all'uh Illinois. You think we ah' just gonna hand over a couple thousand dollahs?"

"It'd be an investment," Louis said quickly, pressing his lips together and wrinkling his brow. "I...I'm working on an invention that would give this bank a lot of money."

Phil sneered. "And what'd that be, Mistah Stubbs?"

"I'm developing a blueprint for a device that could quite possibly move between different moments of time in space," Louis sounded proud of himself, and Phil laughed.

"You mean, a time machine?" he guffawed in the man's face. "What, 'ah you really planning on fooling me? I wasn't born yestahday, _Mistah Stubbs_."

Louis clenched his jaw, eyes narrowing in fury. "It's gonna work."

"Yeah, okay," Phil continued laughing. "And I'm the God-damn Tooth Fairy!"

Louis stood up from his seat, slamming the chair into Phil's desk as he walked away. He didn't get the loan.

* * *

**Arlington Heights, Illinois: 1953**

Maybelle ran her fingers through Inez's hair, pulling it into a long French braid. They were sitting on the little girl's pink bed; there wasn't much place else to sit because their house was practically crawling with moving boxes.

"Momma," Inez whined, clutching onto Seaweed's old teddy bear. "Why we gotta move again? We just moved here three years ago, and now we gotta leave again."

"Baby," Maybelle started, pausing her efforts with Inez's hair. "When your father had his accident, he had to stop working at the factory. You know that, and that's why Aunt Bertha let us stay here for so long. But your daddy and I have been saving up some money, and we're gonna go own a nice place in Chicago. It has a pool in the backyard, and you're daddy's gonna buy a brand new car. You'll be going to a nice school, and you'll meet a lot of nice new friends..."

"But I'm gonna miss Ashley and Susie and Billy and Crab and all of my other friends, Mommy!"

"We all gotta make sacrifices, honey," Maybelle said. "Seaweed's quitting the basketball team so we don't have to pay for it anymore. You know how much he loves basketball. So, baby, can't you just settle for not seeing your friends so much? You can still see them every once in awhile. I'll even schedule a play date for next week, after we move."

Inez smiled a little, nodding. "Okay, Momma. I'm sorry."

"It ain't a thing," Maybelle said softly, brushing Inez's hair again. "And baby: don't be too hard on your father, okay? He's goin' through a rough time. Lord only knows what's what, but he's goin' through a rough time."

* * *

**Arlington Heights, Illinois: 1951**

Louis gripped the briefcase in his hands, glancing over his shoulder. He put out his cigarette against a brick wall, blowing the smoke into the wind. It carried a couple of feet until it disappeared.

"Louie, Louie, Louie," a deep voice sounded behind him. Louis turned to face him; his figure was hidden in the shadows, but Louis knew who he was. He'd done business with him enough times.

"Boss," Louis said cautiously, hugging the case closer. "You're, uh, colleagues sent for me. The wife nearly had a heart attack, they scared her pretty bad."

Boss chuckled. "My apologies, Louie. Didn't know your wife was so sensitive."

"Yeah," Louis muttered. He motioned towards the case in his hands. "Listen, I got the money you asked for. It's right here. All in hundred dollar bills, like you asked."

Someone else stepped out from behind the shadows; he was at least six feet tall, three hundred pounds. His face looked all scrunched up, like someone had punched him the nose more times than he could count. Louis handed him the briefcase, and the lap dog passed it off to Boss.

"Nice work, Louie," Boss said quietly, and the sound of a car trunk opening and closing sounded through the still of the night. "It's quite regrettable, actually."

"What's...uh, what's re-regrettable, Boss?" Louis felt nauseated.

"Well," Boss started, sighing. "It's regrettable that I'm not gonna be able to hold up my end of the bargain."

Louis grit his teeth, eyes flashing with anger. "What?"

"It's unfortunate, really," Boss continued, and Louis saw a glint of light bounce off a long metal object in Boss' hands. A crowbar. "I mean, you've done such a satisfactory job for us through the years, Louis. But the last batch you gave us...well, it wasn't what you call the cream of the crop."

"I..."

"My boy," Boss stepped towards him, his eyes narrowed. "My best friend since the God damn third grade is sitting in a prison cell as we speak 'cuz a cop caught up with him. They ran a couple 'uh tests and the bills were proved fake. Now, how would that be, Louie?"

"I..."

"You gave us a God damn fucking _fake_ batch," Boss handed the crowbar to his friend. "I can't be seen with lame money, Louie. It ruins my reputation."

"My back's bad since the war," Louis felt tears forming in his eyes. "I can't...I can't rob no banks anymore, Boss."

The man holding the crowbar lifted it over his head, staring at Louis with an intense hate. The Boss started to get back into his car.

"Hey, Jones?" Boss said to the man with the crowbar. "Make it so he can't rob no banks anymore."

* * *

**Chicago, Illinois: 1955**

Louis locked the wheels on his chair. "It ain't no time machine."

"What is it?" Seaweed said, raising his eyebrows. "It looks like a giant microwave."

His father laughed, his throat raspy. "A giant microwave? Boy, that is a genuine _counterfeiting machine_."

"What does a counter...counterfeiting machine do?" Seaweed asked, wrinkling his forehead. He scratched his elbow, staring at the box in confusion.

"Well," Louis started. "It's a machine that makes money."

"Real money?" Seaweed looked at his father. "Or Monopoly money? 'Cuz the one Inez got for Christmas is missing all the hundred dollar bills..."

"It makes real money," Louis said, then shook his head. "Well, it makes replicas of real money. But no one ever knows the difference."

"Isn't that illegal?" Seaweed's voice cracked. "I mean, I heard some guys on the news talking about it."

Louis pursed his lips, straightening his glasses. He unlocked his wheels and started moving around the room. "It's...a practice that's frowned upon by the government."

Seaweed looked at him for a moment, then looked at the ground. "So it's illegal."

"It's how I make money, Seaweed."

"But you're breaking the law."

Louis clenched his jaw. "Seaweed, c'mere."

Seaweed walked over to where his father sat. Louis gestured towards the ground, and Seaweed knelt down next to him. "One day, Seaweed. One day, you're gonna have a family to support. And...and you're gonna do some things that...that you ain't gonna be so proud about. But it's worth it. You realized that all you've done is worth it, because someday, you're gonna have it all. A house with a yard. A pool. A God damn Corvette, Seaweed. And you're gonna show everyone. You're gonna show 'em that yeah, a God damn Negro can have it all. And you're gonna show 'em that it's because you got the brains, and you never got caught."

The twelve year old was silent for a few moments. "That's how...that's how we can afford this place? All this stuff? Counterfeiting?"

Louis nodded his head slowly.

"Dad, I'd like to...I'd like to learn. How to do it."


	4. The Bank

**Chicago, Illinois: 1953**

The truth of the matter was, Louis wasn't moving his family out to Chicago because of the nice homes, or because people thought he was crazy. The truth was that he was running away. Running away from the Boss, running away from his problems. And most importantly, the cops.

It would be a matter of time before the Boss' friend would open his mouth and tell someone who it was that gave him the fake money. And why wouldn't he? He'd probably get a reduced sentence for good behavior, or something like that. Louis went by a different name when dealing with the Boss, of course. They knew him as Louis Truman (after their great president, of course). But they also knew where he lived, and they'd have no problem giving that information up to the police.

Luckily, Louis had had money stashed away. A lot of money, from his bank-robbing days. Maybelle didn't know anything about how he got the money, and he was making sure it stayed that way. She'd leave him, for sure, and take the kids with her. She hated criminals.

Louis wheeled into the garage, mentally surveying the room. Finally, after a few moments, he sighed.

"It'll do."

* * *

**Baltimore, Maryland: 1965**

Seaweed gripped the steering wheel of the car with a frightening intensity, his foot planted firmly on the gas pedal. Penny was sitting in the front seat, body tense, holding onto her chair for dear life.

"Seaweed," Penny said through gritted teeth. "Slow down."

"Not until we get out of the city," Seaweed's eyes were bloodshot; he hadn't slept in days.

Penny shook her head, her pigtails bouncing against her neck. "Ten million dollars, Seaweed?"

He stared at the road in front of him, watching the yellow dashes pass by the car as they flew down the nearly empty highway. His face was laced with dirt and sweat. The words he wanted to say wouldn't come out, like they were lodged in his throat.

"What can I say?" Seaweed said, his voice breaking. "I'm an overacheiver."

Penny let out a heavy sigh. "Seaweed..."

"It's for us, Penny," he said quietly. His hands were fastened around the sheel with more pressure than before. "I...I did it all so I could provide for my family when I was older."

"There are things," Penny started, "called jobs, Seaweed. Nice, _legal_ jobs."

"Penny," Seaweed frowned, glancing at her for a second. "You're not mad at me, are you?"

"Of course I'm mad at you," Penny crossed her arms over her chest. "You've been lying to me about everything! I don't even know who you are anymore!"

Seaweed sighed, tapping his fingers against the wheel. "Okay, I'll tell you; my real name's Louis Jermaine Stubbs, but everyone in my family just calls me Seaweed. The people...the people I work with know me by a lot of different names."

"Who are the people you work with?"

"They're mostly banks," Seaweed said cautiously, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. "But sometimes I, uh, I work with...other people."

* * *

**Arlington Heights, Illinois: 1961**

The young teller looked at Seaweed over the counter, grinning her ersatz smile. "Good evening, sir. Welcome to the West Arlington Bank. How may I help you?"

Seaweed shrugged his shoulders, leaning over the counter. The teller blushed as he flashed her a smile. "Good evening. What might your name be?"

"I...uh," she stuttered, smoothing out her hair. "Bertha. Bertha Washington."

"Nice to meet you, Bertha Washington," he said smoothly, tapping his fingers against the counter. He leaned closer. "Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Sophia Loren?"

"No," she shook her head, her face flushing even further. "No. No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do," he assured her, looking down at the ground. "Even prettier, I think."

She giggled nervously, pulling on the sleeve of her sweater. "Is there anything I can help you with, Mr...?"

"Allen. Ethan Allen," Seaweed told her, hoping she hadn't paid any attention in History class. He slipped her a thin piece of paper. "I'd like to cash this check."

She nodded her head. "What's your account number?"

Seaweed lowered his head towards hers, whispering: "I don't actually have an account with your bank, Bertha. I live in New York; I'm just visiting some family here. But I really need to cash this check tonight."

Bertha pressed her pink lips together, furrowing her eyebrows and frowning. "I'm not supposed to accept checks from people that don't have accounts with the bank, Mr. Allen."

"Ethan."

Bertha smiled a little. "Ethan. It's against the bank's policies. How would we know if the check was a fake or not?"

"Listen, Bertha," Seaweed started, smiling at her. "I know that this seems forward, but I'd like to take you out sometime. Would you like that?"

She giggled a little in her hand. "Well...I'd...I'd like that very much."

"So would I," he leaned in even closer, and Bertha giggled again. "But, Bertha, I need to cash in this check first. Or else, I couldn't take you anywhere. You see my problem?"

She nodded her head a little, glancing over her shoulder.

"We wouldn't have to tell anyone. Just our little secret," he said, and she smiled.

"You know, I've always hated this job," Bertha took the check from his hands. "Our little secret."

**

* * *

****Chicago, Illinois: 1958**

Louis looked at his son, raising his eyebrows. He put down the nespaper he was holding, folding his arms across his chest. "How's everything going to Janetta?"

Seaweed shrugged his shoulders, digging his spoon into a bowl of cereal. "S' okay. We only went to the movies one time."

"Mhm," Louis bit off a piece of his toast. "Well, you better treat her with respect."

"Dad."

"I'm serious, Seaweed."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Dad," Seaweed said, lowering his voice. He took a sip of his orange juice, and Louis furrowed his eyebrows.

"What do you mean?"

Seaweed sighed, dropping his spoon audibly into his bowl. Some milk sloshed around and spilled out from the sides."Janetta doesn't wanna go out with me anymore."

"What?" Louis pressed his lips together. Trying to lighten the mood, he added: "You have all the Stubbs genetics working in your favor."

Seaweed gave his father a weak smile, then let it disappear. He stared at his Cheerios. "She doesn't want to go out with a broke guy."

Louis knit his eyebrows, letting out a heavy sigh. "You kids are 15 years old. What does she expect, presents from Tiffany's?"

Seaweed shrugged again, putting his empty cup onto his bowl and carrying them to the sink. "Pretty much."

"Well, you're better off without her," Louis told his toast, ripping a piece of crust off with his fingers. Everything came down to money.

* * *

I think this was the shortest chapter yet. The NEXT one will definitely be longer, and Penny will find out more about Seaweed's...uh, occupation. ;P


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